


The Blood of a God

by Lakritzwolf



Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Blood, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 17:02:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4145673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lakritzwolf/pseuds/Lakritzwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even on the other side of the world, even after finding his soul mate, Mitchell still can’t escape himself, no matter where he goes. So far he has not harmed anyone in his new home but staying clean gets harder with every single day. Anders decides to help and offer his own blood, but what happens next is nothing either of the two could ever have expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blood of a God

“Mitchell, you can’t go on like this.”

But Mitchell just shook his head, clamping his hands between his knees. Anders ran his hands through his hair with a sigh. The vampire was shaking; it was like watching someone going cold turkey, and the fact that the someone in question as a vampire made it even harder to watch. When Mitchell looked up, his eyes flashed black for a second.

“You need to feed. I know you’re trying to stay clean, but you need to feed now, before you go feral and kill someone.”  
His only answer was another shake of Mitchell’s head. He dropped his head forward and the black locks hid his face from Ander’s eyes.  
“You’re already there, aren’t you.” Anders flopped down beside him on the sofa. “You’ve pushed yourself too far.”  
Mitchell’s shoulders tightened. 

“Look I don’t know how this works, Mitch, but how about we go... how about we go to a shady part of town, find someone disgusting like a drug dealer or a pimp or someone else who really deserves to die? You’d be doing us all a favour, it’s like weeding the...”  
Mitchell’s obsidian eyes and the hint of a snarl had Anders break off midsentence.

Anders took Mitchell’s hand. “Mitch, you’re going feral.”  
“I know.” The vampire’s voice was dark and rough and nothing like the voice Anders was used to hearing.  
“So what do we do?”  
“We?” Mitchell swallowed hard. “You can do nothing.”  
“The fuck I can.” The hand under Anders’s fingers was ice cold and trembled. Even colder than usual. “You need blood, and you need it now. Just a little, to take the edge off, and then you are going to feed. I swear I’ll drag you downtown myself.”  
“Good luck with that,” Mitchell rasped. “I’m stronger than you.”  
“Even in this state?”  
Mitchell’s eyes flashed black for a second. “Especially in this state.”

Anders got up and shook his head. Went to the kitchen and stared at the drawer where he kept his knifes. He had never done this, had avoided it like the plague, thinking about this. He hated blood, he couldn’t deal with the sight of it or the feeling of having it trickle across his skin. But he looked at his lover again, sitting hunched over on the sofa, face almost between his knees while his arms crossed at the back of his head.

Before he had met this gorgeous man... vampire... he hadn’t even known he swung that way. It had taken him ages to accept it and come to terms with it. They had hardly touched that subject in their conversations, but from the hints he’d gotten, Anders could assume that it had been the same for Mitchell as well. There was something special between them, something beyond physical attraction, even if the physical side felt like nothing Anders had ever felt before. 

And now his vampire was about to destroy himself. Desperate to leave this trait of his curse behind, to have his conscience if not clean then at least not heavier than it already was, he had avoided feeding ever since he had come here. Months, in fact. Almost a year. Anders slowly opened the drawer; if Mitchell heard the sound he didn’t react. 

As everything, Anders also kept his kitchen utensils in pristine condition and the filleting knife he took was sharp enough to cut through a falling hair. He would hardly feel the cut, but his hands were shaking as hard as Mitchell’s were when he laid the blade against the skin on his forearm. 

He couldn’t do this. 

Behind him, Mitchell emitted a long, low moan. 

He had to do this.

The cut didn’t hurt; the knife was indeed sharp enough. The sting came a second later, when the blood began to show, and the sight made Anders queasy. Cradling the forearm in the crook of the other, Anders approached Mitchell again and went into a crouch before him. 

Mitchell moved like quicksilver, jumping up and almost toppling the sofa over as he leapt over it to bring the piece of furniture between him and his lover. “Get the fuck away from me!”  
“I remember when you told me about your werewolf buddy,” Anders said slowly. “About how he didn’t go mad monster on his girlfriend because he had somehow recognised her even fully transformed. This is the same, Mitch. Take what you need to get by, you won’t kill me.”

The obsidian eyes were back, and this time, they stayed. “Don’t make me do this, Anders. I will kill you...”  
“No, you won’t.” He kept his eyes on Mitchell, rather focussing on his face, even with those black eyes, than his bleeding forearm. “I know you won’t.” It came out as almost cocky as he slowly walked towards his lover. “You can’t.”  
“I can...” it was almost a growl now.  
“Nope. Because if you do, then you won’t get to fuck my gorgeous arse anymore.”

Slowly, Mitchell reached out with one hand and took Anders’s forearm. “You will regret this.”  
“No.” Anders shook his head. “I won’t.”

Mitchell dropped his head forward with a groan of defeat and Anders closed his eyes as the vampire’s lips closed around the small incision on his arm. And then he realised that this was hot, in a sick, twisted kind of way. God, his stomach was about to turn, but his cock thickened in his trousers as well. It was a strange mix of power and solicitousness that he felt.

But after only a few sucks, Mitchell dropped his arm with a scream.

“Mitch?” Anders’s insides turned to ice at the sound. “Mitch?”

Mitchell fell to his knees, doubling over and screaming like he was burning alive. Anders knelt down before him, trying to make the vampire look at him. “Mitch! Mitch, what the fuck is going on?”

Anders froze when Mitchell finally looked up. His world spun to a halt around him. 

Mitchell’s eyes were no longer obsidian, but they weren’t his usual dark brown, either. They were white. Utterly empty, shining white. And the blood that dripped from his lower lip was steaming as if it was boiling hot. 

“You’re a god...” Mitchell’s voice was hardly recognisable as anything remotely human.  
“What? God?” What has that to do with... oh no...” Anders ran his hands through his hair, oblivious of the streak of blood he smeared across his cheek. “No, no, no... Mitch.... the fuck did I do?”

A few pink drops of blood mixed with saliva trickled out of the corners of his mouth before he threw back his head and screamed again. A blood-curdling scream of utter agony. Steam was rising out of his mouth as if his insides were boiling inside him, and the way he clutched his abdomen that might not have been far off the mark. 

“Mitch!” Anders grabbed his lover’s shoulders, but Mitchell was beyond anything but screaming. Steam rose from his mouth, nose and even from between his closed eyelids now. “Mitch!”

But Mitchell just jerked back and fell over. Horrified and stunned and utterly helpless, Anders was forced to watch as Mitchell was writhing on the ground with flailing arms and legs as he continued to scream. 

And suddenly, the scream was cut off, ending in a silence of utter finality. Mitchell went still.

“Mitch...” Unaware of the wetness on his cheeks Anders crawled to his sides. “Mitch... talk to me, what is going on?” He shook him, but there was no life left in Mitchell’s body. “Shit... shit, no..., what have I done...”  
He had killed his lover. His blood had somehow killed the man he loved. “I didn’t mean to...” Anders shook him again by the shoulders. “Mitch I didn’t mean to... Wake up!”

Panic is a survival trait. It triggers fight or flight, eliminating most of the rational thoughts. 

Anders fought.

His first aid knowledge consisted of a course taken when he took his driver’s license. But all that he knew was that he couldn’t make it worse. He somehow figured where the right spot had to be and pressed down with both hands. He completely forgot that vampires have no heartbeat to start with.

This wasn’t a plastic doll with a mouth piece of hygienic silicone. There were no electronics inside to tell him if he pressed the right spot with the right amount of pressure. Anders was fighting for the life of the man he loved.

He blew air into Mitchell’s lungs, smashing down on the thought that this would be the last time their lips touched. Went back to the heart, or what he hoped was the right spot, and didn’t even realise that he kept on yelling the foulest curses at Mitchell for his refusal to wake up. 

Anders had no idea how long he had been doing this. His hands began to grow numb, his arms began to hurt. He refused to give up, but failed to bring even the slightest sign of life back to Mitchell’s body. In his panicked desperation he suddenly hammered both fists down into Mitchell’s chest so hard he was sure he could hear a rib crack. And did it again. “Wake up you stupid, blood-sucking asshole!” And again. 

And suddenly Mitchell jerked with a gurgling gasp of breath. His head tossed back and forth a few times before he twisted and, with a chocked, suffocated sound, hurled the contents of his stomach onto the kitchen floor.

Anders heaved. The last thing that Mitchell had eaten had been blood and Anders was about to add his own contribution to the puddle of vomit. He swallowed down hard against the urge to retch and tore off his t-shirt instead. He used that to wipe the mess of Mitchell’s face and then threw the soiled cloth onto the puddle of coagulated blood to cover it before cradling Mitchell’s head in his hands.

“Mitch?”  
Mitchell blinked a few times, having difficulty focussing on Anders’s face. His eyes were back to normal, but his skin was paler than Anders had ever seen before. He was also much colder than ever before.  
“Talk to me...” He wiped a few stray locks from Mitchell’s forehead. “Please talk to me...”  
“The fuck... happened?” His voice was weak and rough and trembling.  
“Fuck if I know.” Anders swallowed hard. “You... I offered you some blood, and you... you...screamed and... went into cardiac arrest.”

Mitchell frowned, trying to get his brain together. “I can’t do that,” he finally muttered. “I don’t have a beating heart.”  
“Then why did it work?”  
“What?” Mitchell frowned in confusion. “What did work?”  
“My attempts at resuscitation.”  
“The fuck?” Mitchell tried to prop himself up onto his elbows but failed- Anders slung his arms around Mitchell’s shoulders to hold him steady.  
“You know, kiss of life, cardiac massage, that stuff you learn in first aid course.”

Mitchell was silent for a while. “I don’t know,” he rasped after a while. “It shouldn’t... It didn’t. Don’t know why I woke up, but I don’t have a heart you could have...” And broke off with his face drawn into a mask of horror.  
“Mitch?”

Mitchell was pressing a hand to his chest. 

“Babe?” Anders voice sounded very small to his own ears.  
Mitchell shook his head. “’s not possible...” It was a broken whisper. “Not... not possible...”  
“What...?”  
“It can’t...” Mitchell’s eyes widened.  
“What? What is it, Mitch?” Anders had to resist the urge to shake him.

When Mitchell focussed on his face again, his eyes suddenly spilled over, tears trickling down his cheeks to vanish into the black curls of his hair. “My heart...”  
Anders was just about to ask when it hit him. With trembling fingers and his heart pounding in his ears, he pressed his fingers against the side of Mitchell’s neck. Never had he felt the pulse of his heartbeat under his fingers before.

Their eyes met, and Mitchell broke into tears. 

After the few seconds Anders needed to get his brain into gear again he shifted his position and gathered Mitchell into his arms, head against his shoulders. Mitchell closed his hands around Anders’s upper arms so hard his fingers were digging into his flesh, doubtlessly leaving marks in their wake. Anders didn’t care. 

“It’s okay, Babe,” he whispered into Mitchell’s hair. “I got you.”

It wasn’t before Anders had tucked his lover in with a hot water bottle and covered him with an electric blanket that Mitchell was able to speak again. A cup of vegetable stock and a glass of orange juice diluted with hot water had stayed in his stomach, but his tears still hadn’t stopped.

Anders was curled up beside him on the bed, but not in the cocoon of heat he had built to help Mitchell get his body temperature back to normal. Their fingers entwined when Mitchell turned his head and Anders covered his hand with his own.

“I didn’t know there was a cure,” Mitchell whispered.  
“But what exactly cured you?”  
“The blood,” Mitchell replied. “What else could it be? It must be the blood. The blood of a god.”  
Anders pondered the thought. “Do you think so?”  
“I have fed before off people who gave willingly. That can’t be it.”  
“The blood of a god, huh?” Anders shook his head.  
“Given freely...” Mitchell met Anders’s eyes with a warm smile spreading on his face.  
“What makes you think that?”  
Mitchell shrugged. “It’s just a hunch.”

They fell silent again and as their eyes met, Mitchell’s eyes misted over again.

“I thought the only way to escape was to be impaled,” he whispered.  
“Well, good thing you hooked up with a god then.”  
“Yeah.” Mitchells smile was something Anders had never seen before. “Lucky me.”

**x-x-x**

When Anders came home that day he had never been so afraid in his life. The gahr was over. Bragi had left him. Mortals would forget them. 

Mitchell was mortal now.

But even as he unlocked the door he was swept into an embrace and before he could even gather his wits, he was being dragged towards the bedroom, lips sealed by a kiss, buttons tearing, clothes flying, hands groping.

Before he had even been able to say “hi” he was already naked and on the bed, pinned under Mitchell’s body.

“Guess you haven’t forgotten me after all,” he finally managed to insert between kisses, voice shaky, breathing heavy.  
“You saved me,” Mitchell muttered against the skin of his neck. “How could I forget you?”  
“I’m no god anymore. You’re mortal now.” Anders squirmed under the attention if Mitchell’s lips on his skin, slowly moving lower.  
“You saved me,” Mitchell whispered again, into his navel this time. “No forgetting you.”  
“Won’t question my luck...” Anders chuckled breathlessly.  
“Good.” Mitchell smirked up across the expanse of Anders’s belly and chest, cheek rubbing against Anders’s twitching cock. “Don’t.”


End file.
